The Stolen Ring
by TheHeartlessCrow
Summary: A trip to Sweden turns into something much more dangerous as John discovers that someone is out for vengeance. Written for a school assignment. Original casefic. Constructive criticism welcome. Rated T for minor swearing. Based upon BBC's Sherlock.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is a story that a few of my fellow students and I wrote as an assignment for school. Each chapter is written by a separate student and we were asked to publish it somewhere. So here it is. Constructive criticism is always welcome, but no flames, thanks!

Disclaimer: BBC's Sherlock belongs to various persons and corporations that are not in any way associated with me. This piece of fanfiction is written by 5 students who just wish to pass an assignment they were given. I claim no ownership of the show or Sherlock. No profit is made from this material, now or in the future.

* * *

Chapter 1

Thinking back on my early years of traveling in my life, both on my own and with my friend Sherlock Holmes, I had joyful, and a large number of merely strange memories about them. Though I had been traveling and working with many different cases with my friend, the one time I travelled alone, I never thought this would be the most memorable and surprising trip of all.

"This is 18 karat gold, with a solitary 1 karat Top Wesselton diamond. It also has a special design that you can't find anywhere else than here in Sweden. Finally, it has got a princess cut. Just for your princess."

"Oh, this is absolutely perfect. She can't say no to that."

"I would be surprised if she did." said the expedite called Anna. She had long blond hair and big blue eyes. It was almost exactly how I had thought a Swedish woman would look like. It was a nice store, Guldfynd, close to Gustaf Adolf's square in Malmö.

"I will put it in a special box for you. So, how did you two meet?" she asked with her Swedish accent and a great, genuine smile.

"It was 2 years ago. She found me in the worst stage of my life. It felt like everything was falling apart for me. Then she came and made me sort of complete. She is the biscuit to my tea and the beat to my heart. I would be nothing without her." I took the picture of Mary from my wallet and showed it to her. "This is the love of my life."

"How beautiful! Well, she must be a pretty lucky woman to have you as well Mr…?"

"You can call me John."

"Thank you for your purchase John, and I wish you the best of luck with Mary."

Although the store was crowded with a lot of people, I really felt happy with the service that I got and walked out of there with a smile on my face. It was a foggy day. The leaves had turned yellow and brown on the trees in the park. It was the middle of October, but not as cold to be wearing a winter coat. Mary would have loved to be there, but there wasn't any time for that. I was only invited to Malmö for a short visit to a medical convention. They had called me a month ago, asking if I wanted to come and share my experience as a doctor in the war in Afghanistan. I was not sure at first, only because it is in my past and something that still haunts me in my sleep. Yet I felt proud of my journey and if that could inspire and help others, I would not resist. After all, I did find the special ring Mary had talked about, so it had been worth the trip.

I was set up to speak two times at the convention which was exciting, but also a bit nerve-racking since I did not know how many other doctors, specialists or nurses there would be. They had booked a room for me at Clarion Hotel on Malmö Live where I stayed for two nights. I felt like a celebrity walking into the doors of the hotel. They carried my bag and guided me to the reception where the receptionist welcomed me.

"Hello, Mr. Watson. Welcome to Malmö. Have you been here before?" said the tall man with a smile, whiter than the snow in the winter. "I am Erik, and I hope that you will enjoy your stay here. I can see that you are attending the convention starting later today."

"No sir, I have not been to Sweden before, only heard a lot about it. I am very pleased to be here and just by looking inside this lobby, I think I will definitely enjoy my stay here." I went up in the elevator to my room which was on the 22nd floor. I did not even consider the stairs for obvious reasons, although it would have been a good exercise. The first thing that caught my eyes was the king size bed with at least five shiny pillows, just for decoration. The room had a wall-to-wall carpet, heavy dark purple drapes, walnut wooden drawers, a wardrobe and a desk. I was a bit exhausted from my flight and a quick nap seemed like a good option.

I woke up at 3:45 pm, realising that I was supposed to be at the convention 4 o'clock downstairs. I went through my leather weekend bag to find a proper shirt appropriate for the occasion. I quickly unpacked the rest of my clothes and put my latest purchase, the wonderful ring, on the nightstand.

Once downstairs, I saw hundreds of people mingling around in a big conference room. The walls were white but decorated with giant green and red streamers and other flower decorations. If I had not been sweating on my way down to the lobby, I was surely sweating imagining standing in front of a crowd this large. I started to think if it was a good idea to do this after all, but then a gentleman came, serving drinks. He said something with words I did not understand.

"Sorry, I am not from here. What did you say?"

"Ah! Care for a drink perhaps?"

I drank it fast, thinking that it might calm my nerves. There were many different people in the room. Both men and women in different age groups. Some seemed to have retired recently, while some were newly graduates. A long table of various appetizers stood in the left corner of the room. I went for a piece of dark bread with roast beef and mustard when a collision of my hand and another man's hand occurred.

"Oh, sorry! said I. Seems like we reached for the same sandwich."

"No worries. You can have it, of course, Captain Watson."

I looked up at the man standing in front of me. "Captain?" I thought to myself. I had not been called that since the war. Hearing from his accent I could tell that he was from Britain as myself. He had short dark hair with hints of grey, although his mustache had already turned fully grey. His eyes spoke of experience. He had seen a lot of things in his life. He wore a brown tweed suit. In his other hand, he carried a black cane.

"Remember me? Long-time no see!" said he.

"Hmm… I am afraid not. Well, I am embarrassed now. Would you enlighten me?"

"It's me, Lieutenant James!"

"Oh! I did not recognise you. Of course, how are you?" said I and was glad and surprised to see him after all these years.

"Well, I am great, but…"

"Dr. Watson! Hello, I am a big fan. Can I just take a picture with you and maybe you can sign my paper here?" said an almost hysterical middle age woman and grabbed my arm. "Come here!"

I followed her to a short man with a camera almost bigger than himself. I turned around to wave at James, but could not see him anymore through all of the people in the room.

"Here we go Watson!" said she. "Okay now, say cheese!"

"Cheeeeeeeeese!"


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: BBC's Sherlock belongs to various persons and corporations that are not in any way associated with me. This piece of fanfiction is written by 5 students who just wish to pass an assignment they were given. I claim no ownership of the show or Sherlock. No profit is made from this material, now or in the future.

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Chapter 2

"Marvelous! Marvelous Dr. Watson! Such an honor to meet you, finally! Thank you for that inspiring speech on post-op traumas…"

"Great speech Dr. Watson!"

"Ehm… Thank you, thank you." said I while shaking the hands of people coming forward to greet me on my lecture.

"Dr. Watson, Dr. Watson, may I have a photo please"

"Ehm…"

"Excuse me! Excuse me! Good evening Dr. Watson. My name is Rebecca Hall and this is my colleague Dr. Sörensen"

"Good evening.." said I as I was shaking their hands, both having a firm grip, that was telling of confidence and certainty.

"We are having dinner tonight with some colleagues in the restaurant on the top floor, and would be honoured if you would be so kind and join us to discuss some of your work further.." she continued.

"Yes Dr. Watson, truly an honour!" Dr. Sörensen reassured.

"Thank you, thank you," I replied not really knowing what to answer. Surely it was nice getting this sheer amount of acknowledgment from fellow colleagues, but I was feeling quite tired and had a nice, quiet evening in mind already.

"Thank you for the invitation… "

"Dr. Hall, Rebecca Hall" she reminded me, not seeming bothered at all by the fact that I had forgotten her name.

"Dr. Hall, yes! Sorry, thank you for the invitation Dr. Hall but I must decline. It's been a long day and I will be getting back to my room for some well-needed rest."

"Of course, Dr. Watson, maybe tomorrow then?"

"Tomorrow? Yes, tomorrow would be great," said I and nodded while shaking their hands in order to move on, away from the crowd.

Feeling rather hungry I decided on going out for dinner before taking the elevator back to my room. Although the downstair restaurants genuine Mexican cuisine was appealing at a first glance, the large dining hall was already getting crowded with visitors and lecturers from the convention. It would be impossible getting a quiet meal in a crowd like that so I decided for a little walk to the old part of town thinking surely a nice and quiet restaurant could be found on the way.

The weather outside reminded me quite a lot of London, other than the weather there were no other similarities to my home town. Malmö seemed like a much more quiet town and not at all as crowded with traffic even in its most central parts. It almost felt abandoned, particularly when I turned into a narrow paving stone road with the surrounding buildings casting their shadows over the sidewalk. This would be a rather good setting for a criminal novel, thought I to myself as the wet slippery paving stones kept making a peculiar sound for every step I took, marking the rhythm of my steps like a metronome, or even more like a large old grandfather clock proudly emphasizing every second that passes.

As my eyes went from building to building an interesting sign caught my attention. It was of a bite-sized hog pinned on a fork with the letters "BASTARD" on it. Even though it wasn't too appetizing looking with a whole hog impaled on a fork I found the sign somewhat humourous. Looking through the window glass the staff didn't seem too occupied so I decided on having my dinner here, within reasonable walking distance to the hotel.

Upon entering the restaurant a tall waiter greeted me in swedish at first, but rather effortlessly switched to English just after a quick glance at my puzzled look.

"Good evening sir, are you expecting company or will you be dining alone?" said he while making a sweeping gesture with his arm implying that I should follow him into the back of the room, past the large, square shaped, brass coated bar which was placed in the middle of the room, somewhat like a centerpiece at a fancy dinner table.

"No, just me," said I following him to a table placed against a wall overlooking the whole room. It was a quiet evening, with the background music playing I could hardly hear the conversations going on between the other six guests in the restaurant, two couples enjoying romantic dinners and one what looked like, from the one sided conversation, like a father and son night out.

"Here you are sir. Just let me know when you are ready to order" said the waiter while handing over a menu to me and placing a large bottle of water on the table.

"Thank you," said I while reading through the menu.

The walk in the fresh, chilly air had improved my appetite quite a bit. Settling for both a starter and a main course I enjoyed my dinner accompanied with a glass of red wine, which I had let the waiter decide on, not having the patience nor the eye for browsing through the selection of wines. The whole restaurant looked like an old butcher store with white glazed tile on the walls reaching from top to bottom. The only things missing were large counters and hooks hanging from the ceiling. A great setting for a criminal novel I thought for myself again finding it rather entertaining.

After a nice satisfying meal I rushed back to the hotel looking forward to a good night's rest. The sky was pitch black and the wind had increased, the temperature must have sunk a few degrees because the wind was now piercing cold.

Once back in my room I was getting ready for a shower when I realized, to my horror, that the ring was missing. A feeling of panic started crawling up on me. I reached for the phone on the nightstand and dialed the reception.

"Good evening Dr. Watson, how can I be of assistance?" the voice on the other end replied.

"Hello, someone's been in my room. My ring has been stolen... someone has taken my ring. From the nightstand… I wish to speak to the manager!" I managed to get out totally horrified by the fact that the ring was gone.

"Sir calm down please. Are you saying that something has gone missing from your room while you were out? A ring was it?" the receptionist tried to sound calm and reassuring but I could hear some tremor in his voice.

"Yes, that's right. I need to speak to the manager right away please!" said I again knowing that the only people having access to the room other than me were the hotel staff. It was the only logical explanation that I could come to think of at that moment.

"Sir, are you saying that the hotels staff is…."

"The manager please. If you could be so kind and let me talk to the manager, please."

"Of course sir, right away, just hold on for a moment sir" said he and put me on hold. Every second that went by felt like forever.

"Darya Karlsson, room attendance manager at Clarion Hotel & Congress Malmö Live speaking. How can I help you Mr. Watson?" said she with almost a slightly irritated tone in her voice.

"Yes, hello… I had a very precious ring on the nightstand in my room and now it has gone missing. I was holding a lecture at the convention and went out for dinner after. I came back to the room at 9:30 pm and found out that in the meantime the ring has been stolen," replied I

"And now you are saying that the staff is responsible for the theft of this ring?" Now the tension in her voice became clearer. Almost as if she wasn't even trying to disguise it.

"Well, yes… I mean the staff are the only ones having access to the room right?"

"Mr. Watson, I can assure you that the staff is not responsible for the disappearance of your ring. I will kindly ask you to meet me at the reception. We will go to the head of security to check the keycard logs for your room. I am certain that the staff is not responsible in this matter."

"Yes, thank you. I'll be down right away."

"Good.. and Mr. Watson.. Are you sure you haven't left your keycard unattended at any time today?" she finally asked.

"No, It's been on my person the whole time since I checked in at the hotel," I replied slightly surprised by her question.

"Ok Mr. Watson. Just making sure. Please come down so that we can sort this out," said she and hung up the phone.

I took the elevator down to the reception and met up with Darya and a short, dark haired, middle aged man who introduced himself as Kenneth, head of security. We walked through the lobby past the elevators to a staircase which led us to Kenneth's office. He looked at the logs for my room and to my disappointment it became clear that no one had entered my room during my whole stay. The only entries in the log were the two times I used my keycard to enter the room. Darya followed me back to the reception and made sure that the staff would be helping me in case I wanted to get in touch with the police and report the ring stolen.

I excused myself and just felt like laying down for a moment. I walked over to the elevators and went up, back to my room. Once inside, my phone started buzzing. I picked it up, it was my good old friend Sherlock calling.

"Watson! The murder in Piccadilly has been solved. All because of my brilliance of course. You should be here instead of wasting your time in the company of simple minded, homogenic…" Sherlock continued ranting in his orderly fashion but I couldn't stop thinking about the missing ring. Suddenly I felt my phone buzzing against my cheek. It was a message from an unknown number. The message had a picture of my ring in it with the text "Hamnparken, 11pm, come alone" written underneath it.

"Sherlock it has been an exhausting day. I must go now." I hung up on Sherlock and decided to pursue the message.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: BBC's Sherlock belongs to various persons and corporations that are not in any way associated with me. This piece of fanfiction is written by 5 students who just wish to pass an assignment they were given. I claim no ownership of the show or Sherlock. No profit is made from this material, now or in the future.

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Chapter 3

"Mr. Watson, anything else I can assist you with?" said Erik, the receptionist.  
"I would like to order a cab please."  
"Sure thing, where would you like to go?"  
"I want to go to a restaurant in the city center." I lied to hide where I was going.  
"There are many restaurants only five minutes from the hotel, just on the other side of the canal."  
"I just want a cab, please," I said and Erik said no more.

I walked out of the reception of Clarion Hotel to wait for the cab which I had ordered in the reception. The weather had turned to a light drizzle and with the fog that covered Malmö it was difficult to see the houses on the other side of the canal. I looked impatiently at my watch and tightened my scarf. In Malmö a cab is not waiting for you, it is the other way around. This waiting did not help my resolve in pursuing the one who had stolen the ring, especially not in a city I had barely spent a day in.

While reading the message again, a black Mercedes with a yellow toplight where it said Taxi, turned the corner, and stopped in front of me. A man, the cab driver, got out of the car and opened the door for me. Sitting at the right backseat of the cab I could see that the man was middle age with perfectly combed hair. He was orderly dressed, and a tattoo was showing on his right wrist.

"My name is Aasif, I am at your service, where do you want to go?" said he.  
"Hamnparken, please," Aasif nodded, changed gear, and I was on my way. Aasif had an accent much like the one I encountered with the locals in Afghanistan and it made me recall memories from the war. The memories would sometimes bring me nightmares and uneasiness, but at moments like this when danger came about, they would soothe my senses.

The driver took me past the new buildings of the area my Hotel was located in, and drove behind the central station. I got a glimpse of a street sign which said "Jörgen Kocksgatan". For every block we passed the buildings on my right seemed worn and looked more similar to London's industrial period while my left was a field of asphalt. We took two left turns and continued on a completely straight road through the misty night with the car's wipers going slowly back and forth.

"We are almost there," the driver said. "I will drop you off at the last intersection before your destination; it is a hassle to turn around at the small street area close to Hamnparken."

"Is it far to Hamnparken from the intersection?"

"No, just keep following the road after I drop you off and you are in the park when you see a white block house with grass and bushes around it."

After just a few minutes the driver stopped the car and gave me the price. As I reached for my wallet in the right inner pocket of my coat and I made an irritated noise, I had forgotten my wallet in the hotelroom. I looked through my pockets, and I was lucky to find enough change to pay my fare which I had received when I paid for my dinner earlier that night. The cab drove off and the night closed in on me as the spotlights of the car disappeared. It was not difficult to know where to go, just further along the road a white block house could be seen through the grey mist. I looked at my watch, 10:52 pm.

I walked into the park with uncertainty and self-doubt. Now when I was here I was not sure it was such a good idea to go alone. I tried to fend of the negative thoughts and focus on what I was here for, the ring.

I waited close to the entrance of the park and time passed very slowly. My coat had gotten wet and I began to feel cold. I looked at my watch, 11:04. I felt my hope slowly decaying away from me; I felt stupid, foolish and naive. I understood I may never see the ring again, but I decided to explore the park, perhaps I was standing in the wrong location.

The park consisted of two small stone paths which started at the entrance and connected at the end, one going right, the other left. I decided to walk down the left path. Hamnparken was a small park, no bigger than an average sized square, but the weather made it impossible to see the edges of it. After walking the path twice I gave up. Time was long past 11pm, and I started walking back to where the cab had dropped me of when I felt a buzzing from my phone. I had received another message from the anonymous number.

"Where are you going? Third time's the charm, Watson."

I turned around and ran back to the path, this time being extra mindful of my surroundings. That is when I saw it, something glimmering below one of the lampposts. I walked in a fast pace towards the glimmering reflection with relief and hope like children on Christmas Day.

When I was closer I could see the box which I had chosen earlier that day. Inside it was still the ring for my future wife, Mary. I bent down and picked it up, I took out the ring and inspected it to make sure it was not damaged.  
As I inspected the ring I heard footsteps behind me and before I could turn around something hit me in the back of my head. I fell down to the ground, and felt light headed after the blow. I felt my consciousness fade. Before it did, I could see a dark figure pick-up the ring which had left the palm of my hand, and the last thing I remembered was the sound of the thief's footsteps fading into the darkness of the night.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: BBC's Sherlock belongs to various persons and corporations that are not in any way associated with me. This piece of fanfiction is written by 5 students who just wish to pass an assignment they were given. I claim no ownership of the show or Sherlock. No profit is made from this material, now or in the future.

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Chapter 4

When I had ended the call to Sherlock he was walking back and forth in the apartment at 221B Baker Street. My companion had decided to travel to Malmö the following day to meet me, knowing he had a mystery to solve because of the way our conversation had ended earlier that evening. Sherlock arrived to Malmö Airport at 7:45 am the following day and took a cab from Sturup to the hotel I was staying at to see me. During the drive to the hotel Sherlock looked at the landscape passing by the cab's window, a mixture of forest and agricultural fields almost the whole drive into Malmö City, which Sherlock knew was the third biggest city of Sweden. The cab stopped outside Clarion Hotel which was a newly built building complex containing hotel, concert hall, and apartments.

My companion walked into the hotel, and asked the receptionist; "Could you please tell me which room Dr. John Watson is staying at?" After a quick glance at the computer the receptionist, whose name tag said her name was Ingrid, said "Watson? He's in room 2212, sir."  
"Thank you, miss," Sherlock replied.

On his way to the elevator, Sherlock looked around the lobby, a very open and spacious place. But all in all, a very common hotel lobby with plants, and sofas in groups, with a small bar before the entrance to the hotel restaurant where the last breakfast guests were on their way to leave.

Sherlock stepped into the elevator and pressed number 22. Well at the 22nd floor he got out and continued to my hotel room 2212. Sherlock knocked at the door, without the knowledge of me not being there, in his own determined way. After two knocks Sherlock got impatient and felt the doorknob, and as I had not had the time to lock it after me as I had stormed out the evening before after I had received the message. The door was open and Sherlock stepped in. Among the first things he saw was a long thin stroke at the wall just to the right of him as he proceeded through the short and narrow hallway. As my companion got into my room he found a weak dragging mark on the carpet, just about the same as he had seen on the carpet in the corridor between the elevator and my room. He saw my wallet lying on the desk and that the rest of the room was in an untidy manner which gave him a feeling of discomfort as he knew about my otherwise neatly preference.

At this moment, Sherlock took his phone and dialed my number without getting any answer, so he tried again and this time someone answered.

"Hello." The voice belonged to a woman Sherlock was unfamiliar with.

"Hello," he said, "to whom am I speaking?"

It got quiet for an instant, "You are speaking to Sara and I am a nurse at the University Hospital here in Malmö," the woman's voice replied.

"I am seeking Dr. John Watson, is he there?" Sherlock asked.

"Is that his name?" Sara, the nurse, wondered aloud.

"We have a man who came in late last night unconscious, without any form of ID," she continued.

"My colleague wears a square shaped Tag Heuer with black leather straps, his right Loakes shoe is more worn out than the left and he has a lime-tinged aftershave," Sherlock explained.

"Sorry?"

"He is about 5 foot 11 and approximately 170 pounds with light, short hair," he replied in a demeaning manner.  
"That seems about right."

"I will come at once," Sherlock said, grabbing my wallet and swiftly walking back to the elevators. He went down to the lobby, asking the receptionist, Ingrid, to call him a cab so he could get to the hospital.

On his way to the hospital Sherlock passed the city Library with its beautiful surroundings of Kungsparken and some of Malmö´s most beautiful buildings. As the drive went on he also passed Pildammsparken where many people were running or walking.

The cab rolled up in front of the the hospital, Sherlock paid the driver and rushed into the reception and asked where the John Doe, who came in late last night, was lying. He got the answer that I was lying in the intensive care department.

When I opened my eyes, it was a blurry sight at first, and I could not make sense of the environment I found myself in. I wondered what had happened to me as I slowly but steady got my sight back, and I saw my companion sitting in a chair, inspecting me beside my bed.

"You're here!" I exclaimed in surprise. Feeling a thundering headache and a sore neck.

"Yes, I got the feeling you could need some assistance, give me all the details you remember from yesterday," Sherlock answered.

As my consciousness returned, I could more easily remember my doings the day before. "Well, as you can imagine it is still a bit dim, but I will tell you what I remember from yesterday," said I.

As I told him my movements during yesterday afternoon and evening; my arrival, the purchase of the ring, my lecture, the people I had meet, and as I told him I could see Sherlock doing these characteristic facial expressions he usually does when he finds a clue during our cases or when something becomes clear to him. I can remember me wonder why at the time.

"Well, whether you want it or not we are to go to your conference tomorrow as planned, I have some interesting theories to apply," said Sherlock. I was surprised and could not manage to answer something other than, "Yes, if you say so. I'm fine by the way, thank you for asking."


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: BBC's Sherlock belongs to various persons and corporations that are not in any way associated with me. This piece of fanfiction is written by 5 students who just wish to pass an assignment they were given. I claim no ownership of the show or Sherlock. No profit is made from this material, now or in the future.

* * *

Chapter 5

I do not know how Sherlock managed to have me discharged from the hospital, but he did. I was about to ask him how, but I quickly decided against it after seeing the disgruntled look on the nurse's face. I signed the papers quickly and decided to keep my curiosity at bay after mumbling a quick, "Thank you for your care."

Sherlock was already waiting outside the hospital for me, and by the look on his face, he was in deep thought.

I walked up next to him and asked, "So, what do we do now?"

Sherlock slowly came back to reality and gave me a slow look. " _We_? _You're_ going back to the hotel to rest. _I'm_ going to Hamnparken to look for clues and will meet you at the hotel in a few hours." He glanced at his watch and continued, "Perfect, we shall meet just in time for dinner as well." His tone did not leave any room for arguments, and I felt the last shred of my patience disappear.

"Sherlock, I've been robbed, threatened, and knocked out since coming here. Not to mention the fact that you just had me discharged from the hospital, the least you can do is tell me what you're planning!" I snapped at him. I hated being kept in the dark and he knew it. Sherlock looked at me and I could see the concern in his eyes.

"Do you trust me, John?" It was not a common occurrence to see Sherlock so… open, and it made me stop my tirade. I sighed, "Yes, Sherlock, I trust you. You know that." He'd proven that to me a long time ago, and I had never come to regret it.

Sherlock continued, "Then trust me to help you with this."

I sighed again, this time in defeat. "All right, but you better be at the hotel in time for dinner, or I'm eating without you."

He smiled at me and shot me a look of gratitude. "Thank you, John."

I felt a bit awkward. "Yes, well, let's get a move on then. Before it gets too dark for you to see anything at Hamnparken."

We each grabbed a cab and parted ways. As I sat in the back seat of the cab, which smelled of cologne and cigarettes, I felt myself being torn between two conflicting emotions. A part of me was relieved that Sherlock was there to help me find the ring, and another part was worried I had dragged him into something dangerous. I paused at that thought and had to let out a chuckle. For once, I was the one dragging Sherlock into a case and not the other way around. Perhaps being so long in his presence had begun rubbing off on me. I let out another chuckle at that. Or perhaps I had been hit in the head too hard.

Time had crawled by slowly. I had spent the past few hours in the hotel room sleeping, eating a small meal, and flipping through TV channels without watching anything. The clock was approaching 6pm and Sherlock was still nowhere to be seen. I figured I would just meet him downstairs. After a quick shower, and a change of clothes, I was standing in the hotel's dining area perusing the buffet. My stomach rumbled, and I decided to start without Sherlock, hoping he would show up before I was done eating. Thankfully most people here seemed to eat at a later time, so I was able to find a table close to the window and enjoy my meal in peace. As I was about to take my first bite of the food, I heard a chair being pulled out and looked up to see Sherlock's eager face. Before I had a chance to say anything, he excitedly declared, "I know who stole your ring."

I put down my utensils, my food forgotten, and gave him my full attention. After a few seconds ticked by, I prompted him, "Well? Who was it?"

"I can't tell you yet."

My face fell. "Sherlock…" I warningly told him.

He interrupted me before I could continue. "Just listen. In order for my plan to work, you need to remain clueless."

I gave him my most deadpan look. "You want me to remain clueless regarding someone who is potentially trying to kill me?"

"That's just it, John, I do not believe this person is trying to kill you. Merely ruin your life."

John scoffed. "Oh, if that's all they mean to do, then, by all means, let's not stand in their way."

"No need for sarcasm, John. I know exactly what we need to do." Sherlock leaned back in the chair, but not before stealing some food off my plate.

"And what is it _exactly_ that we need to do?" I shot the plate towards him, knowing he would just keep stealing food off my plate. The man might be a genius who solved crimes faster than anyone I had ever met, but he was still too lazy to grab his own plate of food.

"Well, it's like this John, all _you_ have to do is present your lecture. You let _me_ handle the rest." He smiled at me in that annoyingly arrogant way of his.

The following morning I was pacing a hole in the small office I had been provided with next to the conference room, where I would be holding my second lecture. Sherlock had explained to me his plan last night, and while I had been completely on board with it then, I was beginning to think I had made a grievous error in trusting his judgment regarding this _plan_. If you could even call it that. "Madness! Absolute bloody madness!" I cried.

"Calm down, John. I know this will work." Sherlock was unfazed, sitting calmly in his chair with his chin resting on top of his hands. "There's no need to panic," he continued in the same calm voice.

I sputtered, "No need to panic?! Are you out of your mind? I can't believe I agreed to one of your crazy plans, yet again!" I kept ranting, feeling the dread building in my gut.

"John." Sherlock's sharp voice broke through my panicked mind.

I shot a look at him but quickly shut my mouth after seeing his determined face. Sherlock had never let me down, and he was not going to now either.

I felt embarrassed. "Sherlock, I-"

"It is quite alright, John, I know how much this ring means to you, and how much it will mean to Mary." He shot me a soft smile before continuing, "Before we leave, I promise that we will have the ring back in your possession, and the culprit will be caught."

My embarrassment was slow to die, and I knew my face still bore the proof of my mortification. These few days had taken its toll on me, Sherlock knew it, yet he remained by my side. _Ever the faithful friend_. I thought to myself. He also understood why I was not my usual level headed self. This ring meant everything to me, and all I longed for was to see Mary's delighted face after proposing to her. A small smile made its way to my lips at that thought.

"I see you're feeling much more like your usual self." Sherlock's voice brought me back to reality.

I looked up at him and cleared my throat, "Yes, sorry about that."

"No need to apologise. Now, let's set the second part of the trap. You remember what you need to do?" He asked me for the umpteenth time.

"Er… Act clueless?" Was my brilliant reply.

"Marvellous. You have the act down perfectly." He shot me a cheeky grin. I simply shot him a mock glare and tried to hold back my own smile. The man's poor humour had rubbed off on me. He continued, "I'm going to get some fresh air and will meet you inside the conference room." He glanced down at his watch. "You're up just now." A quick glance at the clock on the wall confirmed I had about ten minutes left, and I quickly gathered my things.

"Of all the times to get some fresh air, now's the time you decide is the best?" I grumbled under my breath.

"Now, now John. If you keep talking like that the audience will miss out hearing your wonderful lecture." He swept past me and walked out the door, but not before I heard him say to himself, "This is going to be fun."

The lecture had gone well, and I was rewarded with applause from the audience. I kept an eye out for Sherlock amongst the throng of people, but I couldn't spot him in the dimly lit room. I was interrupted in my search by James slowly making his way towards me with one of the guests guiding him by his side. I politely excused myself from my current company, whom I had barely exchanged any words with, and made my way towards him.

"Lieutenant James, what a pleasant surprise to see you again. We didn't get a chance to exchange more than a few words. Please, would you mind sitting down at my table and exchanging some stories with me?" The young man at his side guided James closer to the stage, where I had laid claim to a small table and four chairs.

"I would be delighted, Captain Watson. Thank you, young man, I can manage from here." James sat down carefully, and the young man returned to his table.

"Where are my manners? Is there anything I can get you?" I asked him quickly.

He looked up at me and thought for a second, "A coffee would be nice, thank you."

"Of course, I'll be right back." I got up and walked towards one of the tables I had spotted earlier and saw an arrangement of drinks, but nothing that looked like coffee. Oddly surprising, considering coffee seemed to be the preferred drink amongst Swedes. Suddenly, the lights turned on and the pleasant buzz of chatter instantly ceased. The sound of the microphone being turned on made everyone's gaze turn towards the stage. Towards Sherlock. "Oh dear lord, please know what the hell you're doing." I sent up another small prayer before focusing my attention on Sherlock, who was now very loudly clearing his throat into the microphone. No doubt thinking one of the few hundred people here wasn't paying attention to him.

"May I have your attention please?" Sherlock smiled at the crowd, and I let out a deep sigh. "You've already got our attention," I muttered quietly. I gave him a look to signal he should get a move on. Sherlock being Sherlock; he completely ignored me.

"I deeply apologise for having to cut this very pleasant evening short, but there's something I need to do for a dear friend of mine." He paused and looked straight at me. "John, you mind giving us all a small wave?" _Oh, I was going to murder him._ I slowly put up my hand and gave a small, hesitant wave. I ignored the people now openly staring at me. Sherlock did too and continued, "You see, my dear friend has been through quite a lot these past few days, and something very precious was stolen from his hotel room." People were murmuring amongst themselves, their curiosity piqued. "A ring which he bought for his dear beloved, Mary, back home in London." I could hear a few women awing at that.

"Oh, but it doesn't stop there, my dear guests, you see the thief wasn't merely out for this piece of jewellery, oh no, they were out for _blood_. Poor John tried to track down the thief after being led on a wild goose chase around the city, only to be attacked and end up in the hospital for his brave efforts." Sherlock kept looking around the room as he spoke as if he were searching for something. Or someone. Yet his gaze never lingered for more than a few seconds on his spectators.

"I knew something was wrong the minute I spoke to John on the phone, and I rushed here to find out what was wrong. After getting the whole story from John I am certain that the thief is in this very room." Sherlock paused for dramatic effect. "You see, the thief couldn't help but show up tonight. To gloat, to feel as if he'd finally conquered an old enemy. That enemy being you, John." I could hear the shocked gasps from the audience. Sherlock didn't pay them any heed and simply went on, "You see, John wasn't the first option for this seminar. There was another person who had been promised that, but was later replaced." I opened my mouth in surprise. This was the first time I had heard of this, but that couldn't have been the only reason someone went to such lengths to make my life hell.

"Oh, but there's more."

You could always trust Sherlock for the theatrics. He had the whole room captivated, and he knew it.

"The thief made sure all the evidence was gone so they wouldn't be caught. They bribed the security guard at the hotel to delete all the footage of them entering the room. The attack on John happened when he had his back turned and not a single soul was around." He focused his gaze upon someone and exclaimed, "It was the act of a _coward_!"

I tried to see who he was looking at, but I was too far away to get a good look. Whoever it was, they kept silent. I made my way through the crowd and towards the person Sherlock was glaring daggers at.

"There was one thing this coward didn't count on, though." I made it through the crowd and spotted the target of Sherlock's infamous, cold stare.

"Me." Sherlock smiled coldly.

He was looking right at Lieutenant James.

I froze. It couldn't be. I started shaking my head in denial. Sherlock had to be wrong.

 _But Sherlock is never wrong_ , another part of me argued.

"Lieutenant James Hughes." More shocked gasps filled the room, and the people closest to the table quickly backed away. I made my way slowly towards him. James was glaring back at Sherlock and paid me no heed.

"James, please tell me there's no truth to this," I pleaded quietly. James simply turned that glare at me and sneered, "And what if there is?"

My face immediately hardened. There was no doubt about it now, I knew a guilty man when I saw one. I began putting the pieces together, but before I could voice my thoughts; I was interrupted by Sherlock calling two police officers. _When had he called them?_

"Arrest him, please. I have gathered all the evidence you need now. You've already been provided with the tobacco samples I gathered at Hamnparken; you'll find they're a perfect match to the one he smokes. Ah, and the scratch on the wall will match the scratch mark on his cane." His gaze hardened, "And you'll find the blood on it matching John Watson's."

The police officers put the cuffs on James while I stood and watched silently. "Oh, and before I forget. Would one of you mind searching his pockets for the ring?" The officers obliged and within seconds one of the officers had the ring in his hand, still in its box.

Sherlock scoffed, "Of course, you just had to take something as a prize, didn't you?" James let out a string of curses, "He deserved it! After everything he did!"

I walked up to him and asked, "What exactly did I do to deserve this?" My voice was calm, even.

He spat at me, "You don't even fucking remember!" I kept staring at him until he finally answered, "It's your fault I can't walk without my cane! It's your fault I could never progress within the army. I was discharged and couldn't do anything to provide for my family. They all left me! This opportunity was all I had left, and you took that from me too! Well, now I finally had a chance to take something from you, it's just a shame it wasn't that pretty lady you have waiting back home, Mary, was it?" He chuckled darkly at me. I felt my blood boil and prepared myself to punch him. Before I had a chance, I was stopped by a hand on my shoulder and a familiar voice telling me, "He's not worth it, John," Sherlock said quietly. I turned to look at him and unfurled my fists. I turned back to James. "No, he's really not." James lunged at me while screaming obscenities. The two police officers held him back and began leading him out of the room. The crowd parted to let them through and I could hear James' screams slowly fade away. It was finally over.

"I told you I'd get your ring back, didn't I?" The ring suddenly appeared in front of my face. "Isn't this supposed to be evidence?" I didn't think I'd be in for any more surprises, but I was wrong.

He smirked at me, "Well, I can be very convincing when I want to be." I stared blankly at him. "All right, all right. A man can't even have any secrets anymore," he muttered before answering, "I offered my services to the police of Malmö in order to speed things up a bit." It seemed I could be more surprised.

"You offered your services?"

"Yes, yes, just don't let it become a habit to lose expensive jewellery."

I smiled at him. There was no way I could ever express my gratitude for what he had done tonight. I knew Sherlock became awkward around people showing him any gratitude, so I decided to keep it simple.

"Sherlock?"

"Yes, John?"

"Thank you."

"You're quite welcome."

We were suddenly interrupted by the whole room erupting into applause, and I couldn't help but laugh at Sherlock's attempt to evade the entire crowd after having had their attention on him just a few minutes ago. This man was a walking contradiction at times, but the one thing I could always trust him to do was to have my back.

* * *

A/N: Thank you for reading!


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